Page 52 of She Who Holds My Wrath

The cold instantly settles into my bones, forcing me to yank my cloak tighter around myself.

The air here bites. So cold it literally stings my teeth when I breathe, each inhale sharp enough to make my sinuses ache. Frost prickles along my lashes almost immediately, turning every blink gritty and slow. Gods. Was it this cold last time?

I turn to face Maelkar and then I realise—we’re entirely alone. No Corin, no guards. Just endless white stretching in every direction. I spin on the spot, boots crunching loudly against snow-crusted ice, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. Any flash of armour hoping to see they’ve just landed somewhere nearby, even though I know that’s not physically possible. Nope. Just wind skimming across the frozen plain, lifting powdery snow into thin ghostly swirls. No sounds but the low howl of air cutting across the open expanse. Just me… and the Shadowtongue. Shit.

“Well… looks like it’s just us, queenie.” He huffs a laugh, blowing into his hands as if this is mildly inconvenient rather than potentially catastrophic. Not even a hint of concern crosses his face.

I stare at him. “What happens if we need them?” I ask, panic lacing my voice despite my best efforts to sound composed.

He just shrugs, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try and warm himself. “Holy fuck, I hate the cold,” Maelkar grumbles. His breath fogs in thick white plumes. “Gimme some of that fire, queenie.”

I roll my eyes, irritation flaring. How is he not bothered? We just landed in a realm that supposedly fell under divine attack with zero protection. No scouts, no perimeter. No clue what’s waiting for us out there. I mean sure, between the two of us, we’re pretty powerful. But power doesn’t stop a blade in the back. Extra hands and swords would make me feel a hell of a lot better right now.

I push the thought aside before it spirals into full panic and focus on the power writhing beneath my skin—that low, familiar thrum like a heartbeat under my own—and summon a small, bright white flame into my palm, its warmth blooming instantly against the brutal cold. Maelkar crowds closer without hesitation, practically huddling beside me. The light spills across his face, licking over the sharp lines of his jaw and catching in the faint sheen of frost clinging to his dark hair, illuminating his midnight skin in soft white.

“Here’s a little practice for you.” He smirks, his violet-ringed eyes seeming to glow under the aurora-lit sky. “Wrap your flame around me.”

“What?” I blurt, recoiling slightly. “You’ll burn!”

“Not if you keep control.” He shrugs, utterly unconcerned with his continued existence. “If you will it not to harm me, then it won’t.” A beat. “Now, hurry up. My balls are shrivelling.”

I scrunch my nose in disgust. “An image I really didn’t need. Thank you.”

He just flaps his hands impatiently, shooing me like an incompetent servant. I close my eyes and take a slow, controlled breath, forcing the panic and irritation down into something manageable. I picture my flame extending outward, wrapping around him like a blanket instead of a weapon, without causing him pain, and just being warmth. When I open my eyes again, I watch in quiet awe as my power flows from my palms, threads of white fire unfurling like silk ribbons. They curl around Maelkar’s arms, his torso, his legs, settling against him in a gentle, luminous cocoon. I watch him carefully for any sign of pain. Any flinch. Any recoil. Instead, he releases a soft, almost indecently pleased sigh.

“Gods, that feels good,” he murmurs, tipping his head back so the aurora’s shifting light paints his features in greens and violets. “It’s like a warm hug.”

“Alright, Olaf,” I mutter. “And how exactly do I keep this under control as we make our way to Kaelith’s palace?” I arch a brow, trying not to think about how exposed we still are out here.

“Oh, I don’t actually need your flame to keep warm,” he says casually. “I can use my shadows to protect me from the cold. Just thought it would be a good way to test you.” He winks and grins.

It takes a truly heroic amount of restraint not to spike the temperature of the flame just a little. Instead, I opt for maturity. Barely. “Ass,” I grit out, withdrawing my power. The flames peel away from him in delicate strands, threading back beneath my skin with a faint prickle like static electricity. “Velentha told me to reserve my magic.”

He shrugs again, completely unrepentant, breath still fogging lazily in the air. I scoop up a handful of snow, packing it absently between my palms. It’s way colder than I expect, biting and already numbing my fingers.

Maelkar’s head tilts slightly, shadows rising to his shoulders and stirring like restless smoke. “Don’t you fucking dare, Hellflower.” His tone is low, warning. But there’s a spark of amusement buried under it.

I freeze mid-pack. Caught. For a long second we just stare at each other, the wind whispering over the frozen plain, aurora light rippling across the snow. Slowly—very slowly—I let the snowball crumble from my hands. It falls apart in a soft hiss of powder against the ground. Maelkar smirks, satisfied, and turns away from me, already scanning the area like he’s won some unspoken battle. Big mistake.

I immediately scoop another handful. This time, I don’t pack it carefully, just enough to hold it together, and with all the grace of a child who absolutely knows better, I whip it at the back of his head. It explodes on impact in a burst of white powder. For a heartbeat, everything goes still. Then I burst into laughter. Real laughter—loud and bright and completely uncontrollable—rips out of me before I can stop it. It echoes across the empty expanse, startling in its own unfamiliarity.

Maelkar goes very, very still. Slowly, he turns. Snow dusts his dark hair and the collar of his coat, already melting against the warmth of his skin. His violet-ringed eyes lock onto mine, widening slightly in surprise before narrowing into something far more dangerous. An evil grin spreads across his face.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You’ve made a terrible mistake. His shadows move before I can react. They lash across the snow like living things, fast and silent, wrapping around my ankles with icy precision. I barely have time to gasp before they yank.

The world tilts violently. I land flat on my back with a soft breathless umph, snow exploding around me in a glittering cloud. Cold seeps instantly through my cloak, shocking against my spine, and knocking the air from my lungs. For a second, all I can see is the sky with ribbons of green and violet dancing above me, my breath fogging in frantic bursts. Maelkar looms into view a moment later, leaning over me with that same wicked grin, utterly pleased with himself.

“Told you,” he murmurs.

Snow slips down the side of my neck. I shriek, half laughing, half outraged, flailing uselessly as I try to sit up. “You’re an absolute asshole!”

“Correct,” he says cheerfully.

He extends his hand and pulls me up, throwing another infuriating wink at me. I dust myself off and glance around at our location as I use my magic to dry myself off, making a mental note of where we are. I realise instantly we’re at the outer perimeters of Kaelith’s palace, at the bottom of the mountain it’s built into. The cliff face rises so high, I can’t see the top from where I am, only the flicker of the lanterns from high above.

I melt the snow with a small flare of my flame, letting it collapse into a shallow puddle before drawing the heat back in and reshaping the magic. I concentrate, calling on the colder edge of my power—the side that burns without warmth. The water shivers, then freezes solid again, spreading outward into a delicate serpentine shape. It’s rare that I use my flames’ ability to become colder than ice, so I pause in quiet surprise as the symbol forms easily, the lines clean and precise as if guided by memory rather than will.

The sigil gleams glass-smooth beneath the starlight. I smile down at the snake etched into the snow, a soft ache blooming in my chest as the memory surfaces. The last time I stood in this realm, Korithax was beside me. This was the first place we ever kissed, steam fogging the air, water cascading around us as he pulled me close in the shower after my panic attack, grounding me, distracting me from the monster that had kidnapped me.